Stiles One Shots

Deputy Derek Hale

"So, I will just have Deputy Jones show you over to your desk and talk you through the newbie's responsibilities and then, you are good to go." the Sheriff told Derek. "I look forward to working with you, Hale."

You too, Sheriff." Derek smiled, standing up and reaching over the table to shake his hand with a firm grip.

The Sheriff had a kind crinkle to his eyes when he smiled. The softening touch to his older face showed how handsome he had been when he was younger and arguably still was, in Derek's opinion.

He left the room with another smile to the Sheriff and Deputy Jones led him over to the smallest desk in the corner of the main room. She offered a consoling shrug when he grimaced at the sight of it.

"Sorry." She apologized. "All the newbies have to go through the shitty desk. And the shitty duties, and the shitty everything, really. I don't even know how we hire anyone to be honest."

"Oh, well, thanks." Derek said, sliding into the chair and wincing at the loud squeak. "What am I doing right now?."

Jones stretched behind her and retrieved a stack of paperwork. "Relatively self-explanatory." she said simply. "Have fun."

"Thanks." Derek muttered. Shuffling through the pages and folders, he started organizing different piles for priority.

By the time he was finished, it was nearing lunch and he had done nothing else. It had reached boiling Californian temperatures by midday and Derek shed his jacket, wiping away the sweat that was beading on his brow. He rolled up his sleeves and tucked them over his elbows, sighing at the heat.

Sheriff Stilinski had explained the lunch break to him, his would be at 1:35 PM. He checked his watch against the clock on the wall and let out a long groan. There was way too much time between now and when he could finally stop.

He flung himself back in his chair and covered his face with his arm, his muscles flexing over his eyes out of habit and stress.

It was going to be a long, long day and he should have had more for breakfast than just grabbing a cheese sandwich from a shop by his new apartment. Never mind that though, Derek hadn't had a wank this morning. He had woken up ten minutes late so had no time to deal with his morning wood and it had served to piss him off all day.

Rubbing his eyes, Derek blinked them open and gazed over the rest of the office with a wearied glare.

His eyes focused and he sat bolt upright, nearly smashing his knee into the brittle wood of his desk. He blinked a couple of times.

There was a guy, a teenager of about 17, leaning against the window of the Sheriff's office with one hand tucked casually in his jeans pocket, the other arm curled around two brown paper bags of food and a phone nestled between the crook of his neck and his shoulder.

He was speaking animatedly into the phone and flailing his arms wildly, several times forgetting he was carrying other things.

Derek watched, transfixed. The boy was beautiful.

Velvety brown locks, rogue strands of hair slipping over golden brown eyes rimmed with full lashes. Constellations of moles spotted his smooth, pale skin and all Derek could think of was tracing them with his tongue. The boy wore a loose white tee under a flannel covered with an overly large red hoodie, the loose mountains of layers were driving Derek crazy as his mind flooded with images of the teen's naked body, similarly covered in moles.

Jesus, he really should have had that wank this morning.

Suddenly, the boy's grin widened and he laughed loudly at something the person at the end of the line was saying. Derek found his eyes glued to the way the boy's shining pink lips stretched over pearly whites. As he watched, the boy flicked his eyes up and snapped eye contact with Derek. A teasing smirk twitched at the corner of his lip and he flashed a wink at him across the office.